My aim is to offer insights into some of the more subtle principles underpinning prints. The commentary is based on thirty-eight years of teaching and the prints and other collectables that I am focusing on are those which I have acquired over the years.
In the galleries of prints (accessed by clicking the links immediately below) I am also adding fresh images offered for sale. If you get lost in the maze of links, simply click the "home" button to return to the blog discussions.

Friday, 24 October 2014

This update is going to be an
experiment in that I will be first giving an account of what has been updated
in the galleries, as shown in the line of links at the top of the page, following
this I will then talk a little about what I have been “up to” recently.

Let me
begin with a truly superb chalk drawing, Old Mill and Stone Bridge, signed by the famous printmaker,
Alfred-Louis Brunet-Debaines (1845–1945), featured in the “Architecture and
Ornament” gallery. The subject—and I could be totally wrong with my attribution
of the subject—has a passing resemblance to Le Vieux Moulin (the old mill) and
bridge near Tourelles Castle (http://vernon-visite.org/pics/vernon2/tourellesmoulin/tourelles2.jpg [viewed
13 October 2014]), but a pencil note on the back of the drawing’s mount cites
“Le Havre” (Rouen Normandie) so I will leave proper identification of the portrayed
subject to those more familiar with historic sites in France.

For me, this drawing exemplifies
the skill and restraint of a great artist. Note for instance how the support
sheet is allowed to breathe (in the sense that the paper is not covered
completely with a layer of chalk) and, importantly, how the colour of the
support sheet is employed as a mid-tone between the tonal extremes of the black
and white chalk.

To add
a touch of the Orient to the “Figures and Fauna” gallery, I have listed two
woodblock prints of cassowaries (a large emu-like bird that inhabits the
rain-forests of North Queensland). The first of these prints is by Kono
Bairei (1844–95). He is one of my favourite Japanese printmakers in terms of
his ability to give life to his subjects, along with his very delicate choice
of colours and his finely adjusted compositions (in the sense that the negative
space surrounding the portrayed subject is just as important as the positive
space occupied by the subject). Viewers may be fascinated by the comparison of
the living presence that Bairei is able to imbue his cassowary with the spirit
that the second artist, the famous Katsushika Hokusai (1760–1849), is able to express
with his image of a cassowary. In short, the two different images of
cassowaries may be of significant interest to those with a sensitive eye to how
different artists portray the same subject.

Also added to the “Figures and Fauna” gallery is a
graphically stunning image by Käthe Kollwitz (1867–1945) of peasants revolting.
Beyond the emotionally moving subject depicted, what is especially interesting
to me about this image is how Kollwitz focuses attention on certain details
while giving only cursory information to “unimportant” elements in the scene.
For instance, see in the detail shown below, how Kollwitz draws attention to the
rendering of a stone ball capping a gatepost by the contrast of its treatment
with the freely laid strokes loosely describing foliage behind the ball. In
truth, there are so many noteworthy graphic incidents in this print that I
found difficulty in narrowing my selection of only a few details to showcase in
the gallery listing.

In the “Landscape and Flora”
gallery is a special treat: five prints from a suite of landscapes executed by Frederick
Bloemaert (c.1614­–­­­c.1669/90) based on designs by his father, Abraham
Bloemaert (1566­–­­­1651). Of special note in these strong and very distinctive
prints is the way that human narratives are woven into the images. For example,
Plate 13, features a woman drinking
from a stream in the foreground while a goat is shown leaping across the crest
of a hill in the distance. What makes this simple story so visually gripping is
that the bounding goat is like a peripheral trace of movement in an otherwise
still landscape despite the visually tumultuous arrangement of fallen logs, the
flow of water and the action of the woman. If I allow my imagination to
construct a larger narrative (i.e. one based on a personal concoction rather than
privileged knowledge), there is also a link between Plate 13 and the plate, Rocky
Landscape with Two Waterfalls, in that the advance of figures from the
right gives a context for the fleeing goat (see details of the two prints
below).

What I personally admire about the
prints of the Bloemaerts is the way that their marks seem to physically “hold”
space as may be seen in the detail below. I mean this in the sense that the
marks not only visually describe landscape features, but also present the
features as if they are sensually handled.

In the “Books” gallery I have
listed a very rare first edition copy of the seventh volume in Sowerby’s famous
illustrations for English Botany. All
the 71 original engravings in this sumptuous volume have been delicately
hand-coloured (as published). I have previously listed other individual Sowerby
prints in the “Landscape and Flora” gallery but this is the first time that I
have offered a complete volume of this rare and early publication.

In the “Object and Artifacts”
gallery I am listing a friend’s house for a very discerning buyer who seeks
only the best in terms of location and luxury appointments. This is a house to
dream about. It is arguably the most prestigious house in Townsville, in the
heart of peaceful tropical North Queensland, Australia. As a sample of what is
on offer, see the poolside view below.

__________________________________________________________

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Now that I have completed my update
about the fresh items listed in the galleries, I thought that I might move to a
completely different topic: what has been happening in my world. More
specifically, how current pursuits have impacted on what I write about in
the formal blog posts.

Regarding the last instalment about
subtle principles underpinning artists’ approaches to portraying vedute (i.e.
scenic views), for instance, I now can see clearly how this focus for
discussion began and I am now challenging myself to explain how it arose.
Before I begin my explanation, however, I need to set a context in my art
practice to give an insight into my present preoccupation.

Essentially, what I “do” in art is to reflect the
concerns and the interests of a contemporary local North Queenslander (for
readers unfamiliar with where North Queensland is on the map, it is the “pointy
bit” on the right side of Australia).
These concerns should not suggest that I do not have an interest in what is happening
in the rest of the world or what has happened in the past. Far from this being
true, my concerns are defined by the rest of the world and by historical
precedents. In fact, a large part of my art practice centres on reinterpreting
early European rural scenes through the eyes of a person living in the tropics
of Australia.
This does not mean that I feature brightly coloured tropical birds and
butterflies flapping gaily through a European landscape. This would be
conceptually too obvious and even silly. Rather I make subtle changes to the
principles underpinning many European landscape images to help me to identify
and to understand personal differences of outlook. For instance, in my three
artworks featured in the last post dealing with Piranesi’s prisons, the Carceri d'invenzione series,
I was exploring the Western convention of lighting a subject from the
top-front-left which is a convention very different to that used by Hebrew and
Islamic artists who tend to use top-front-right lighting or Oriental artists
who do not employ side lighting at all. Why this is interesting to me is that
many local artists living in North Queensland
tend to light their landscapes “incorrectly” according to the Western
top-front-left lighting convention and light their landscapes from the right.
For me, this is a very curious phenomenon. Moreover, rather than ignoring this
propensity to light subjects from a different angle to the Western convention,
I like to explore the anomaly in the angle of lighting that I believe typifies North
Queensland artists.

What was not discussed in the last
post but is also of great interest to me is how early European artists tend to
spot-light certain features in a landscape. For example, a wealthy person’s
house or castle featured in a landscape is invariably bathed in light along
with any roads leading to the dwelling. By contrast, peasant workers who may be
featured in the surrounding fields are left in shadows and portrayed as
gleefully engaged in their tasks or having a marvellous time dancing and
frolicking in the grass. One image that touches me personally with regard to
this convention of spotlighting the socially “important” features in a scene is
the historically sad image of Benjamin Duttererau’s (1767–1851) The Conciliation, 1840

(see http://www.artchive.com/web_gallery/B/Benjamin-Duterrau/Conciliation.html [viewed 18 September 2014]). Here,
the featured socially important subject is George Augustus Robinson offering
hollow words of conciliation to the Tasmanian Aborigines who are later removed
to FlindersIsland and ultimately exterminated. (For
more information about this shameful “conciliation” see Tim Bonyhady’s (2011)
article: http://artsearch.nga.gov.au/Detail.cfm?IRN=64897&PICTAUS=TRUE [viewed 18 September 2014]). In this unapologetic aggrandisement of
Robinson, note how he is spot lit with heavenly light from above while the
Tasmanian Aborigines gathered around him are left in shadow. This arrangement
of lighting is all about setting a political agenda and images such as this
typify why I find some Western conventions, such as social spotlighting, so
interesting to explore.

Now that I have set the context for
my reinterpretation of early images I will focus on my current explorations and
how they excited my interest in writing about verdute.

Shown below is a circular print, Plate 34, by Gabriel Perelle (1603–77) and/or
by his sons, Adam (1640–95) and Nicolas Perelle (1631–95). This somewhat
diminutive in scale etching inspired a suite of artworks that began with the
painting, Referencing Perelle (2008),
shown further below. In this painting the intention was to use, in a very loose
way, the composition of the Perelles’ print but with a North Queenslander’s eye
for colour and the textural “feel” of the local Australian scenery (i.e. the
grey tones and sinuous forms of the print were reinvented with earthy colours
and spiky features of the Australian bush).

upper image:

Gabriel Perelle and/or by his sons,

Adam (1640–95)
and Nicolas Perelle (1631–95)

[Circular Landscape­] Plate 34, c. 1700s

Etching and engraving, (plate) 13 x
12.5 cm

lower image:

James Brown
(the author of this blog)

Referencing Perelle, 2008

Oil on canvas, 91.5 x 91 cm

More recently, I again transcribed the Perelle
etching but this time into a terracotta roundel which I lacquered and polished as shown below

James Brown

Referencing Perelle, Roundel, 2014

Lacquered terracotta bas-relief, (dia.)
21.5 cm

This transcription of the 2D print into a 3D
sculpture—albeit a flattened bas-relief sculpture—lies at the heart of my
interest in pondering how images of scenery can be extended to add extra
viewing dimensions. My excitement with this 3D exploration inspired me to
consider ways to recreate the Perelle print as if it were both an image
inscribed on a flat 2D surface and an image modelled into a 3D form. To find a
way forward, I photocopied my sculpture and digitally overlaid the photocopy
upon an image of the original print with the idea that the merged image (see
below) might function as a model for a drawing.

upper two images:

Original print and terracotta roundel
referencing it

lower image:

Digital morph of the print and the sculpture

Whether the ink and encaustic drawing
shown below that I made from the digital mash-up is a success or not is a
question that I am still pondering. Certainly, I love the idea of working like
a palimpsest artist in layering an image with a 2D and 3D history and then
wearing back the layers so that only traces of each state remain. In fact, to
me, the art of pushing and pulling an image is so intoxicating and rewarding
that I really have no desire to claim that an image is ever “finished.” The
real point, however, lays not so much with the outcome of my endeavours, but
rather with the direction that my ideas took me. In short, the outcome led
directly to the topic that I decided to write about: ways to manipulate images
featuring scenery to suggest that there is more to be seen than may be actually
portrayed.

upper image:

Digital morph of the print and the sculpture

lower image:

James Brown

Referencing Perelle, Tondo, 2014

Ink and encaustic on canvas, 110 x
110 cm

Details of Referencing Perelle, Tondo, 2014

Hopefully this
brief account of my current artistic explorations has been of interest. Please
remember that your comments are very helpful in guiding the direction of this
blog.